


Satisfied

by mosqlarva



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sex what sex?, plot what plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:17:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosqlarva/pseuds/mosqlarva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint ruminates on his life and gets a little existential about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Westgate (Harkpad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/gifts).



> This is a present for Westgate: I have so thoroughly enjoyed your stories and when I saw the prompt for this on your tumblr, I felt compelled to do it. Of course, I then saw you filled it yourself with more grace than I could, but I hope it is received in the spirit it is given: a heartfelt thank you for all the joy I've gotten from your stories!

Clint popped his head into Phil's office. His arms were full of papers and ink smudged his fingers. "Oh hey, I was thinking of making spaghetti for supper. Any objections?"

"Not if it comes with garlic bread," Phil relied as he continued to type his report, not even looking up at Clint's entrance.

"Cool. I can pick one if those premade loaves and put it in to warm when I get home," Clint said.

They both laughed as Phil's stomach growled at the thought. "Oh, and there's a really nice red wine in the basement. Just uncork it when you get home. I'll be about half an hour later than you tonight. I've got a Security and Defence meeting in hour and it should take about an hour to get through the agenda."

Clint nodded and gave a wave as he continued on his journey. He passed by the range and gave a jaunty salute to Peter, the agent who signed out the gear. Peter nodded back, eyes glued to the small screen of his phone. Clint's path brought him to an office tucked into the far end of a corridor. The door had a colourful curtain covering the window and a series of postcards from around the world adorned the frame. Clint rapped a small rhythm on the metal under the curtain.

"It's open!"

"Hi Sally," Clint said, unceremoniously dumping his arm load of papers into a desk. "I bring you presents!"

Sally looked like the opposite of a SHIELD agent. Today she was wearing what could only be affectionately called an ugly Christmas sweater and Clint knew from experience that she was wearing it unironically, Her cat's eye glasses were zebra print and her electric purple hair was twisted into and elaborate braid. Clint never knew what to expect when he entered her office.

"Oh Clint, you know that paper work is like flirting with me," she said with a cheeky wink. Clint knew that she was old enough to be his mother, but he couldn't resist a wink back.

"I'm taken, Sally, or you would be the first on my list."

"So presumptuous. What makes you think you are first on mine?" she asked as she pulled the stack closer.

"Touché," he laughed. "So, I've got the forms you asked for. Do you think you'll need anything else?"

She began to sort through the pile. "Let's see, you've got the request for the employment information form, the spouse benefit form..." she muttered mostly to herself as she continued her sifting. Clint let his fingers twitch as he waited. Coulson had finally gotten around to asking if Clint wanted his name on the mortgage to their house. The amount of of paper work the resultant 'yes' had generated was rather overwhelming, 

"Congratulations Agent Barton, you are the proud co-owner of what I have been told by Joan in Accounting is a lovely home. We will also have your medical benefits and pension benefits updated. Oh, and don't forget to fill out the 401K form I sent you last week."

"Um...thanks?" Clint was a little overwhelmed. He had never really thought he'd end up saving up for, much less collecting, a pension.

"Now scoot. I have forms to file."

Clint wasn't slated for any missions, having finally gotten some down time after a long string of minor kurfuffles in various cities. While he was glad for the break, bumming around SHIELD headquarters always made him feel a bit like a fifth wheel with nothing to do.

"Hey Clint, wait up."

He turned at the sound of his name being called. Agent Wallis, one of Coulson's friends from the Rangers, waved from the end of the corridor. "You still up for the potluck this weekend? I was thinking of firing up the barbeque if the weather is still warm. Probably last one of the season."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, man. Any requests from Marnie?"

"Oh, could you bring your coleslaw! Marnie swore it as the best she ever had last time."

"No problem. How are the kids?"

"Growing like weeks. I tell you it feels just like yesterday they were just coming up to my knee. Now Paul wants to learn how to drivel. Drive! As in a real car!"

Clint laughed and gave a wave. "I'm going to put in some range time. Saturday at two?"

"Yeah, see you there."

Clint mentally added cabbage to his shopping list and swung by the mailroom to pick up his stack of accumulated letters. He usually had his mail forwarded to the SHIELD while he was away on missions. He quickly thumbed through the pile: bills, bills, insurance renewals, credit card offers, more bills, library notice of overdue books, archery magazines, same old, same old. He rewrapped the bundle in the elastic and tucked it into the oversized pocket in his jacket to stash in his locker when he changed into his gear. 

The locker room was a heady mix of sweat, deodorant and gun oil. The janitors hated when people cleaned their guns in there, but it was often the only place people found the time and energy. His locker was near the end of the first row, it's door battered with use and the lock well worn. The locks were more courtesy than effective given the skill sets of most Agents, but habit had Clint changing his combination every month. This month the number combination of Phil's mom, who pampered Clint mercilessly when they had visited last spring. 

He pulled open the door to his locker and after putting away his coat stood staring inside. Photos adorned the inner door: Nat, her arm around Clint and Coulson, with an impish look on her face; Tony in a moment of peace, asleep on a couch with Dummy drawing a moustache on his face with a Sharpie; a selfie of of Steve and Thor on the top of the Statue of Liberty; Bruce feeding a pigeon in central Park. 

Front and centre was a picture Natasha had captured of Clint and Phil on one of their rare days off, clowning around in the kitchen. Coulson was in jeans and a grey henley, laughing with crinkling in the corners of his eyes. Clint was in worn cargo pants with rips at the knees and tank top. He was dripping wet from the water Phil had dumped over his head in retaliation for the ice cube Clint had dropped down the back of his shirt.

Clint stared at the picture, caught up in the memory, and sat down heavily. He was going to be part owner of a house. And he had friends he was talking about pot lucks with. And a team that could watch his back while he watched theirs. Doing all of that with a man who he loved and who for some reason seemed to love him back.

He put his head between his knees and breathed deeply for a few seconds. This was his life. A real life.

"You okay?" Natasha asked. 

Clint shook his head after most definitely not jumping a bit and squeaking. "What am I doing here?" he asked plaintively. He pulled down the picture of Phil and himself and ran a finger along the side. 

Natasha took pity on him and as usual gave him an out, an escape from the Harvey conversation. "Getting your gear ready for practice?"

He took the bait with an eye roll. "I'm serious, Nat. This-- " He waved his hand vaguely at the room around him "This was never in my life ambitions. Me, Clint Barton. An Avenger? Settled down with a picket fence? I mean, really, how is this my life?"

"Are you regretting it?" Natasha asked, sitting down beside him and pulling off her boots. She arched her feet in a long stretch. "I thought you liked your job. What else could we do?"

He shook his head in exasperation. "You know I love my job. I don't regret any of it. It just was never something that I thought...that was....that I.." He struggled for the words

"Something you deserved?" Once again Nat took pity on him.

He nodded mutely. Memories of circus tents with townies throwing insults like peanuts washed over him. He'd been born into a life his parents and brother hadn't wanted. The circus had sheltered him from the world for a brief time, and then the darkness of his choices had drawn around him like a curtain. SHIELD had been a beacon in the night, and Phil....Phil had been the shining knight. From the beginning Phil had believed in him even when his own doubts had threatened to destroy his future. But a part of the doubt, the disbelief that this could be his, that he was entitled to have happiness had resisted Phil's constant loyalty and faith.

Natasha pursed her lips and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, hair falling in a red waterfall past her cheeks. "I believe you deserve all you have, Clint, I have to. That you have achieved what you have gives me hope." She looked up. "If you can deserve this life, then maybe I can too..."

He huffed quietly, but bumped his shoulder against hers. That night so many years ago when he had made the different call, he had recognized a kindred spirit looking for deliverance, for absolution, for an end to to the darkness, 

"I was a dumb kid with a bow. Then a stupid not-quite-kid with a bow that killed people. How did I ever get to this place? I never thought this as possible, that I would be a...a..."

"An adult?" Natasha smirked.

"Well when you put it that way," Clint snorted. "Seriously though, I don think I ever expected to be able to grow up and get this. Have all this without some terrible price."

"Well, you do have to be subjected to Tony's and Steve's terrible flirting," Natasha pointed out.

The weight began to lift off Clint's shoulders as Natasha joked. 

"Clint, you in here? I finished early and was wondering if you wanted to head out before Fury manages to find more for me to do," Coulson called as he entered the locker room.

Natasha shoved him off the bench. "Go. Be happy."

With a small grin of thanks, Clint carefully replaced and the picture before grabbing his jacket. "Sounds good, Phil!" He slammed the locker shut. He had a romantic supper to make and a future with his friends, his team, and with Phil to discover.


End file.
